CHAPTER TEN
Tem froze.
Caspen’s voice was inside her head, as it always was, deep and luxurious and knowing. It shocked her so much that she sat back down on the bench, her mouth hanging open.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Speak to me using your mind, Tem.
“Oh,” she said out loud, then clamped her mouth shut, and thought it instead:
Oh.
She could feel his amusement, and with it, a weight came off her chest. Finally, the barrier between them was lowered. Finally, they were connected, just as they were always meant to be. Talking to Caspen was like sending her thoughts down a long, dark corridor and through an open door—one that until now, had been locked tightly. It felt natural to be joined with him like this, and Tem couldn’t believe it had taken so long for him to allow it.
So, Tem. Is there something you wish to say to me?
Now that they were having a conversation, Tem found herself suddenly afraid. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, and she certainly wasn’t sure how to say it. But Caspen was here, in her mind, and she didn’t want to lose access to him. So she asked:
Did I do something wrong? Earlier, I mean.
He was not beside her, but she could hear him sigh.
You did nothing wrong.
She felt relief at his words, but wasn’t sure if she believed them.
But I did do…something, didn’t I? Or at least…I caused something.
It felt like forever before he spoke. When he finally did, his voice was but a whisper inside her head:
What happened was not your fault. It was mine.
Tem summoned the courage for her next question:
But what, exactly, happened? I don’t understand.
For the first time, Tem sensed Caspen’s hesitation. He was always so sure of himself; now his caution scared her. She worried he might not answer, or worse, cut off their connection altogether. Instead his voice returned, still quiet, still subdued:
I lost control.
Tem processed his answer, wishing for so much more. She remembered the way he had pulled away from her when she’d pressed herself against him—his roar of agony that had nearly ripped her apart. She needed answers, even if he was unwilling to give them.
Did I hurt you?
Caspen’s presence grew in her mind.
It is I who hurt you.
She shrugged, and she was sure he could see her.
You healed me.
His disapproval was obvious. It curled like an iron in her mind, probing at the back of her neck. It was a curious sensation, and although it wasn’t necessarily pleasant, she savored it, because it meant that he was still here. Tem needed to keep him with her. She spoke before he could:
Will our lessons continue?
The probing stopped abruptly.
Of course they will continue.
An incredible lightness shot through her.
So you’re not angry with me?
His mood softened.
I am angry with myself.
Tem could feel his sadness, and beneath it, deep regret. She wanted nothing more than to run back to the cave to comfort him. Before she could act on it, Caspen said:
It is not your concern. Like I said, you did nothing wrong.
She felt him start to fade, and only wished to pull him back.
Please don’t go.
His presence paused.
I cannot stay, Tem. We should not be talking like this in the first place.
But why?
Because it will only lead to pain.
She shook her head.
You have never caused me pain.
The wind caressed her cheek, and she swore he had sent it.
I did tonight.
He was fading again, pulling away. She had to keep him.
If this will only lead to pain, then why did you give me…a piece of you?
Caspen’s presence grew, as if his hands were on her shoulders. The claw was still inside her, and she felt it pulse.
I should not have done that either.
His words crushed her. Of course he regretted it. Of course she was not worthy of the gesture. She swallowed her shame.
Shall I return it to you?
Caspen flared in her mind.
I did not say I wanted it back. Only that I should not have given it to you. Do not assume I regret my actions. I am not someone who makes my decisions lightly.
His words came in an avalanche, so quickly Tem could barely keep up. She blinked, trying to remain calm as she asked:
So you don’t regret it?
His answer was quiet:
No.
Tem gripped the bench, as if by doing so she could grip him.
Will you think of me?
His reply was barely a whisper, lost in the wind:
Constantly.
Caspen relinquished his grip on her mind, and she felt his energy subside. Tem tried to hang on, but she knew this time he wouldn’t stay. His presence faded, and she was all alone in the garden, once again staring at the stars. Where a moment ago she had been warm, now she shivered.
She tiptoed back through the house, passing her mother’s door and hearing her reassuring snores. Tem’s room was dark, but warm, and she undressed slowly, pretending that Caspen was watching. The tip of the claw gleamed between her legs, its pearly sheen glowing in the darkness. It was the most beautiful thing in the world to her—certainly the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. Although she wondered if she did truly own it. Could one even own a part of someone else? Was any part of Caspen hers to own? Tem wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he owned her completely, whether he wanted to or not. Tem touched the claw, pushing it deeper into the place Caspen had not yet been, yet she dearly wanted him to go.
The moment she did so, he returned to her mind.
His arousal matched her own; she could feel how much he wanted her, his heat traveling down the shared corridor of their connection. The tapered tip of the claw pressed against her clitoris, and when she imagined it was Caspen pressing her instead, she felt weak.
Tem climbed into bed, the sheets soft beneath her fingers. His voice came to her as she was pulling the covers over her shoulders:
Leave them.
Joy erupted in her chest at his command. She hadn’t quite believed him when he said he would think of her—then again, she never quite did. Yet here he was, mere minutes later, keeping his word.
Tem left the covers by her feet, lying back on the pillows and shuddering in anticipation. A single pulse tingled between her legs, traveling up her body and peaking her nipples. The pulse quickened, and with it, her heartbeat. She tilted her knees open, brushing her fingers down her stomach, preparing to touch herself.
Be still.
Tem froze, her hand halfway down her body.
Watch.
Tem sat up curiously, staring between her legs. At first, nothing happened—she only felt a gentle vibration, which made her ache even more.
Then the claw began to move.
It slid in and out of her slowly, moving entirely on its own accord. Tem watched in mesmerized awe, transfixed by its steady momentum. She could not look away; it was a marvel to behold such magic, and more amazing still to feel it. The claw seemed to glow as it penetrated her, never going all the way inside her—always stopping itself with the tapered end, which acted as a fingertip would, applying pressure against her clitoris with each penetration.
Kneel.
Tem did so, the curve of her ass resting on her heels, her thighs forming an open angle on the bed. She gripped the blankets tightly, focusing on her breathing as the claw went deeper, prompting her to angle her hips in order to rub herself against the mattress. The combination of sensations felt so good she arched her back as a moan escaped her throat.
She was wet now, and it was soaking into her sheets. But Tem didn’t care; she couldn’t stop rubbing herself, and she knew Caspen wouldn’t want her to anyway. She slid her hips back and forth, concentrating on the point of the claw, which was hard between her legs. If only Caspen were here—if only she could ride him the way she was riding her sheets—if only he could feel just how much she wanted to give herself to him. Tem needed him to know how turned on she was—how utterly obedient and pliable her body had become.
She pictured it with all her strength: her on top, him underneath, her palms splayed flat on his chest, his hands gripping her ass. She imagined how he would pull her against him with sharp thrusts, again and again, until they finished in unison.
As she pictured them together, she felt Caspen’s hunger grow.
He sent her a vision back—the mirror of her own, but this time from his perspective. He was looking up at her as she rode him, her face flushed with heat, her breasts pushed together.
Was that what she looked like to him? Surely, he was embellishing the vision. Tem had never seen herself like that—beautiful, fierce—a sexual being—a woman. It was incredible to see what he saw, to view herself through the lens of his desire.
The claw moved in tandem with her, sliding in and out so she could pleasure herself on top of it. Caspen’s presence in her mind only grew—she could feel him there as clearly as she felt herself.
Get on all fours.
The order was a growl. Tem obeyed immediately, feeling a rush of cold as the air met her wetness. But it lasted only a moment before the claw burned hotly and she cried out, twisting her fists into the sheets. She tried to remain still as Caspen sent it deeper and deeper inside her, but it was impossible not to react. The tip remained pressed against her clitoris, and the deeper he sent it, the more the pressure increased.
Beautiful.
The claw went deeper.
Perfect.
Even deeper.
Angel…fucking angel.
She could barely take another second.
Beautiful, perfect Tem. Fucking perfection.
It went on. Caspen whispered word after sweet word, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. When she was just moments from finishing, the pressure suddenly disappeared.
Tem gasped in surprise, realizing he was teasing her—bringing her to the edge and then denying her a climax. Tem wanted to protest. But before she could, he sent the claw in again, his presence so strong she could have sworn he was behind her. For the second time in a row, he brought her to the brink, but wouldn’t let her finish. Instead, he said:
Take it out.
Tem could barely comply—it went against everything she wanted and needed. But she did so anyway, the smooth hardness slippery in her hands.
Lie on your back.
Tem did so.
Place it on your throat.
Tem set the curve of the claw so it encircled the front of her neck. It was so heavy she felt pressure on her airway. Caspen’s growl of pleasure deepened.
Now finish.
It was the easiest thing in the world to slip her fingers between her legs, rub them against her clitoris, and finish. When she came, she could have sworn the claw tightened around her neck, and Tem thought she might choke. Before she could panic, the claw loosened, and a wave of euphoria swept through her.
Tem’s joy was nothing compared to Caspen’s.
She felt his climax in conjunction with her own, his pleasure rushing in a relentless wave so unfathomably deep that she feared she might slip beneath it and never come up again. Tem had no idea this was what it felt like for him when he came. It was so much stronger than anything she had ever felt—she couldn’t believe he could survive such pleasure. It was impossible to tell where her climax ended and Caspen’s began—perhaps they were the same at this point. His pleasure was hers, and vice versa. There was no end to their connection—no limits to what they could achieve together.
Tem lay there, naked, the claw still clamped around her neck. The afterglow of their orgasms was so strong she barely heard Caspen when he asked:
Did you like that?
His voice was a purr.
Yes. Did you?
When his answer took a moment to come, Tem panicked. But when it finally did, he said:
Of course I did.
Pride rushed through her. He was pleased. He approved.
What did you like the most?
Tem genuinely wanted to know the answer. Caspen was so mysterious; it seemed like she was always the vulnerable one. She wanted to know more about him—to learn how to please him, and for him to trust her to do so.
I liked the way you did what you were told.
It was not the answer she wished for. Tem wanted him to like something about her—something that she, specifically, had provided.
He must have sensed her disappointment because his presence coiled in her mind, settling at the base of her skull.
It is not my approval you should seek. You must save your heart for the prince. You know this, Tem.
Tem did know it. But that didn’t make her seek his approval any less. Caspen himself had told her she was not meant to be tamed. Why should she tame her heart?
I just want to know what you like about me.
She could feel his amusement, and she didn’t like it. She hardened her tone, snapping:
Are you laughing at me?
His amusement only increased.
Certainly not. I am merely wondering what made you this way.
She frowned.
Made me what way?
His answer was a single word:
Persistent.
Tem was surprised. No one had ever called her persistent before. She supposed it was true; she was not one to give up. Even as a child, she’d learned that if she wanted something to happen for herself, it was up to her to achieve it.
I was just born like that, I suppose.
He laughed, and it sounded like church bells ringing.
Then if you must know, that is what I like about you.
Tem couldn’t help but smile. She laid there for a while longer, until she became cold. Eventually she sat up slowly, and when Caspen didn’t protest, she crawled up to the head of her bed. When Tem went to place the claw in her bedside drawer, she heard:
Stop.
She paused, her hand outreached.
I may want you again.
Anticipation rushed through Tem. Eagerly, she slipped the claw back inside. It went easily; she was still wet. Then she pulled the blankets up, and despite her excitement, fell straight asleep.
Caspen had her twice more that night.
The first time, Tem was awoken by a pulse shooting abruptly through her. It shattered her dreams, immediately setting her skin on fire. Caspen sent pulse after pulse in increasing intensity until she cried out, her legs crossed together tightly, her fingers pressing the claw even deeper. It was equal parts exhilarating and exhausting, and when it was over, Tem was covered in sweat and gasping for breath.
The second time was different.
The pulse was soft and tentative, reverberating through her so gently she didn’t even feel it at first. But it nudged her awake insistently, and as the wave built, Tem felt as if she were being unraveled from the inside out—as if Caspen were unfolding her in a field of sunlight. Her climax was long and lingering, buzzing gently along the edges of her body before fading into nothingness. When it was finally over, she heard his deep voice whisper:
Sleep, Tem.
Tem slept.
She awoke to her mother’s insistent knock on the door.
“Wake up, dear. There is someone here to see you.”
Tem groaned, rubbing her eyes. There was only one person she wanted to see, and she was quite sure he wasn’t in the kitchen. When she stumbled out of her bedroom, Gabriel’s cheerful grin lit up the room.
“Morning, sunshine.”
Tem glanced at her mother, who was standing pointedly in front of the drying rack.
“Hey,” Tem sat next to him at the table. “What are you doing here?”
“Delivering this.”
He brandished a letter. Tem recognized the royal stationary.
“Why do you have that?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Peter was going to deliver it. I tagged along.”
Tem smiled, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I’m glad you did.”
Everyone watched as she opened the letter. There were just three lines of thin black text, which she read out loud:
Temperance Verus,
The prince requests your presence at the castle this evening for a formal group dinner.
Kindly be ready at 8:00 p.m.
“What’s that?” Gabriel pointed at the back of the letter.
Tem turned the letter over. There, scrawled in messy red ink, were two additional words:
Torture me.
Leo’s voice ran immediately through her mind: Apparently I’m partial to torture.
Apparently Tem was too.
Gabriel plucked the letter from her fingers.
“Torture me?” He asked.
Tem sighed.
“Leo,” she said simply.
She wondered if the other girls had gotten a personalized addition to their letters. Somehow, she doubted it.
The last twenty four hours had been such a blur that Tem hadn’t had a chance to think about what she’d overheard in the foyer at the end of her date with the prince. But it all came back to her now. She remembered how Leo had argued with Maximus—how his father had chastised him for making the same mistakes of his past. Was Evelyn the mistake he was referring to? Tem knew nothing about her, but she knew she meant something to Leo. Was Evelyn the cause of the rift between father and son?
Tem remembered something else from their conversation—something that made her blood run cold with resentment:
You are only doing this because you know it will anger me.
Maybe that’s part of the fun.
If Leo was only pursuing Tem to make his father angry, then he had no respect for her as a person. That was unacceptable to Tem. She was not a strategy; she would not allow herself to be used to further the prince’s agenda. It didn’t matter that it gave her an advantage in the competition. It also reduced her to a prop in Leo’s game. And Tem was far more than that. She was a catch, and she refused to be seen as anything but.
“So?” Gabriel was saying.
Tem blinked. “So what?”
“How are you going to torture him?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“Tem,” her mother scolded. “You should be trying to impress him.”
“Torturing him is how I impress him, mother. You wouldn’t understand.”
Her mother merely shook her head. Gabriel, on the other hand, smiled wider.
“You know, if he’s into pain, you might consider—”
“Out!” Her mother cried.
With one last rueful grin, Gabriel left.
Tem performed her chores on autopilot, thinking about the invitation. She wasn’t surprised that there would be a group dinner tonight. There were nine girls left, which meant that they were in the second stage of the elimination process. The events would become more intimate from this point forward, to ensure that each girl had as much time as possible with the prince. Tem wasn’t sure how she felt about having more time with Leo. Attending an event at the castle meant she wouldn’t be able to go to the caves tonight. The thought disappointed her; she wanted nothing more than to see Caspen.
We will see each other tomorrow.
Tem nearly jumped out of her skin as she remembered that their minds were connected now. She’d spent so long trying to destroy the barrier between them that she wasn’t used to it being down.
How long have you been there?
Not long.
Tem frowned. She didn’t like that he’d listened to her thoughts without her consent.
I meant no harm, Tem. You are…hard to ignore.
Somehow, she knew it was a compliment. Before she could reply, he spoke again:
From now on, I will only come when you call.
His presence faded.
Tem wanted to call him back, but didn’t. It was hard enough that she had to see Leo tonight. It would be harder still if Caspen was listening to every word.
The package arrived at seven.
It was larger than the one Leo had sent her last time, and when Tem opened it, she realized why. Three dresses fell onto her bed. One was silver, which Tem immediately rejected. She didn’t want anything clashing with the gold of her necklace. The next dress was a deep purple, and so low cut that Tem actually blushed. Typical Leo. The last one, inexplicably, was modest. It was black and form-fitting, with a high neck and long sleeves. Tem arranged them on the bed so she could see all three of them at once.
Tem recognized that Leo was letting her choose for herself—that he’d heard her when she told him that she liked making her own choices. Could it be possible that he wasn’t the pig he portrayed himself to be? A glance at the neckline of the purple dress refuted that possibility. And yet, his gesture wasn’t lost on Tem.
She considered the dresses. Then she considered Leo’s request.
Torture me.
It was one thing to show Leo everything he wanted. It was another thing entirely to show him nothing at all. Besides—who was she to deny the prince?
Tem smiled, and reached for the black dress.